Consequences
by Keesha
Summary: Caleb finds out about Ryan and Gabrielle.
1. Chapter 1 to 4

Keesha Consequences Sep 03  
  
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "The OC" are the creations of Fox and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Comments To: keeshaty@att.net  
  
Placement: After "The Girlfriend)  
  
The front door to the Cohen's house opened and then closed with a resounding bang. Seth and Ryan, who were playing video games in the den, looked up with interest. Kirsten, Sandy, and Rosa weren't likely candidates to be slamming the front door so who was the mystery guest? The boys' curiosity was quickly answered when Seth's Grandfather's voice boomed down the hallway.  
  
"Where is he?", Caleb bellowed, the echoes of his footsteps indicating he was moving swiftly in the boys' direction. In a matter of seconds, the tanned, fit, sixty-something-year-old man burst into the den where the boys were sitting on the floor, controllers laying slack in their laps.  
  
"There you are, you son of a bitch, " Caleb raged. Without warning, Ryan found himself hauled off the floor by the front of his shirt. Caleb's strong grip held the boy secure.  
  
"Are you out to ruin everything I own?" Caleb growled dangerously. He let go Ryan's shirt and with a shove, sent him sprawling backwards. Ryan could not recover his balance fast enough and he stumbled into the wicker kitchen chairs, tripping and dropping back onto the floor. Caleb skirted the table, reached down and furiously jerked the teenager back onto his feet. He held the teen up, their faces inches apart.  
  
"You seem to like to play with other people's possessions, probably because you have none of your own." Releasing the boy and taking a step back, Caleb threw a right cross, which smashed into the side of Ryan's face. The force of the blow momentarily stunned Ryan while the momentum knocked him flat on his back on the floor.  
  
"Grandpa!" Seth implored, "What are you doing?" Caleb swung around to face his Grandson. "Seth, this does not involve you. Stay out of it," he commanded harshly.  
  
In the few seconds that Caleb's attention was diverted to Seth, Ryan, regaining some of his senses, managed to scramble to his feet and start to edge away from the incensed man towards the patio doors.  
  
Caleb whirled back to face his escaping quarry. "Sixteen-year-old punk," Caleb snarled, rapidly closing the distance between him and his target again. He launched his fist at the teen again. Ryan ducked the primary blow but was caught soundly by Caleb's subsequent uppercut. The punch drove the teen backwards into the kitchen island, where his head made solid contact with the overhang of the granite countertop. The bar stool wobbled and crashed to the wooden floor. Dazed from hitting his head, Ryan slumped to the floor weaving in and out of consciousness.  
  
Seth stepped in to block his Grandpa as the man once again closed in on the stunned Ryan. Pathway blocked, Caleb snapped at Seth, "This is between Ryan and me. Stay the hell out of my way." The venomous timber in his Grandfather's voice so shocked Seth, that he faltered, allowing his Grandfather to pass by him.  
  
Head reeling and unable to stand, Ryan tried to use the brief respite to crawl towards the patio doors again. He would not fight back against Kirsten's father. He'd run away but not fight.  
  
"Don't slink away from me, you dog!", Caleb ordered turning his attention back on the fleeing teen. With sheer brute force fueled by his fury, Caleb strode over, picked Ryan up by his belt and the back of his shirt, and heaved him across the kitchen towards the patio doors. Ryan hit the tile shoulder first, rolling and flipping onto his back.  
  
Three independent forces joined there to cause an unexpected outcome. Caleb moved in on the limp Ryan and dragged the boy upright like a rag doll. Cocking his fist, Caleb made ready to knock the boy's lights out. Seth, the second force, shook himself out of his funk. Unable to stand by and watch his own Grandfather beat his adoptive brother to a pulp, Seth charged at the duo. The final force was Kirsten, who, having heard the ruckus, burst into the kitchen to investigate.  
  
"What is going on! Dad, what are you doing?" she asked, shocked at the scene unfolding in front of her.  
  
Caleb's concentration momentarily wavered upon hearing Kirsten's voice and his punch towards Ryan faltered ever so slightly off course. Seth's body slam into his midsection, further redirected the flight path of his fist so instead of hitting Ryan in the face as intended, Caleb's blow landed askew, smashing into Ryan's right shoulder. Trying to maintain his balance, which was thrown off by Seth crashing into him, Caleb let go of Ryan shirt at the same instance his punch landed. The result to Ryan was disastrous. The hapless boy's brain and body, already battered, could not compensate quick enough. Equilibrium awry, the teen crashed through the patio door's glass window to land on the cement decking beyond.  
  
"My God," Kirsten said, traveling swiftly across the kitchen and out onto the patio where Ryan lay in a stupor amongst the broken glass. Seth and Caleb who had landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs, slowly climbed to their feet.  
  
Carefully avoiding the glass shards, Kirsten knelt at Ryan's side. "Lay still", she admonished. Ryan ignored her and slowly pushed himself into a seated position. Laying flat on his back made him feel too vulnerable, especially considering Caleb was back on his feet. When Kirsten saw Ryan was ignoring her advice, she reached out and assisted him in sitting up. Ryan used his right hand to brace himself. His left arm was folded tightly across his stomach.  
  
Kirsten glowered at her Dad. "Dad, what's going on?" she demanded  
  
"That juvenile delinquent screwed Gabrielle," Caleb returned belligerently.  
  
"He what?" she exclaimed, surprised.  
  
"During my birthday party, that punk was having sex with my girlfriend in your pool house."  
  
"I didn't. I didn't," Ryan weakly intoned.  
  
"That's not what she told me," Caleb snarled at the boy taking one step forward.  
  
Ryan, using his feet, tried to inch backwards away from Caleb, his shoes grinding the broken glass into the patio cement.  
  
"Dad," Kirsten cautioned, holding up a hand to symbolically impede her father's forward motion.  
  
Ryan stopped inching away and dropped his pounding head on his t-shirt clad chest. "I kissed her but that was it," he said softly.  
  
Kirsten's gaze rotated back to the beaten boy. "You kissed her? Why did you---" she started to ask but her Dad cut her off.  
  
"You more than kissed her, boy. Don't lie about it. Gabrielle was very specific in what you did to her."  
  
Kirsten looked between the man and the boy, not knowing what or whom to believe.  
  
Caleb ranted on. "I told you this boy was no good, Kirsten. First he burns down my house then screws my girlfriend. You are so done here mister," Caleb said addressing his last remark towards Ryan.  
  
Ryan, head still bowed, closed his eyes. He was so tired. He wanted to pass out, to escape.  
  
Seth cleared his throat to gain attention. "Ryan told me he and Gabrielle did kiss, but it wasn't Ryan's doing. Gabby was mad-dogging him." Seeing the confused look on the adults' faces, Seth added, "She was chasing after him."  
  
Caleb snorted, "He's sixteen. A child. What would Gabrielle want with a boy?"  
  
Seth opened his mouth and then thinking better of it, shut it without answering.  
  
Kirsten glanced down at Ryan. The boy sat, head bowed, eyes closed, hugging his left arm to his chest. The boy was too still  
  
"Ryan?" she asked tentatively. Suddenly her eye was drawn to a spreading red stain on the teen's white tank top. "You're hurt," she charged.  
  
Ryan lethargically raised his head, staring at her in confusion.  
  
"Your shirt," she pointed out, her voice raising a notch. "There's blood all over your shirt."  
  
The boy dropped his eyes to the area in question. His tank top did have a sizable red blotch on it. As he sat there stupidly staring at it, the red edges spread outwards.  
  
"Ryan, move your left arm out of the way," she commanded.  
  
Slowly, the boy complied drawing his arm away from his chest. Everyone's eyes were drawn to the red splotch on Ryan's chest. "Look at his arm Mom," Seth pointed out, shifting his gaze.  
  
All eyes moved from Ryan's chest to his left arm, which was sporting a four- inch gash. The wound was dripping blood at a fairly steady rate onto the patio blocks.  
  
At that moment Sandy, having just arrived home, strolled out onto the patio to see what was going on. He had seen Caleb's car in the driveway and wondered to what honor they owed his visit. The lawyer wasn't prepared for what he found on his patio. Caleb was standing defiantly, hands crossed across his chest staring at Kirsten and Ryan, who were sitting on the patio surrounded by broken glass, Ryan's arm bleeding profusely, Seth, looking shocked, standing off to one side.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?", Sandy inquired incredulously.  
  
Part 2  
  
Sandy drove Ryan to an emergency clinic. They had wrapped the boy's arm tightly in a towel to stem the bleeding. Sandy had to assist the boy into the car as Ryan was not so steady on his feet.  
  
Seth was assigned the chore of cleaning up the broken glass since Rosa had left for the night. After that, Kirsten had ordered him to go to his room. Why, he had no clue.  
  
Kirsten and her father went into the office, securely shutting the door behind them.  
  
Rounding on her Dad, Kirsten demanded, "Just what the hell was that all about! You could have seriously injured Ryan. What were you thinking? "  
  
"What was I thinking? I was thinking the boy screwed my girlfriend. What did you expect me to do, send him a thank you card? That boy is trouble, Kiki. Get rid of him."  
  
"Ryan is not going anywhere. He is part of this family Dad, whether you approve or not."  
  
Caleb shook his head in disgust. "First you marry that no account Sandy, now you take in a juvenile delinquent welfare kid. What's next? A nice gang-banger from the Southside. What about your real son? What about Seth? Do you want him hanging around with the likes of Ryan? Getting into drugs? Next thing you know, you'll have two potheads sitting around the house all day stoned. I suppose they can take lessons from your husband," Caleb finished sarcastically.  
  
"Dad---," she warned letting him know he was starting to cross the line.  
  
"Why you ever dropped charges against the boy," Caleb ranted, "I'll never know. Better he should have rotted in jail. He'll amount to no good. He'll bring you and this family to ruin. Mark my words."  
  
"Where's Gabrielle now?" Kirsten asked, choosing to ignore her father's last comment.  
  
Caleb turned away from his daughter gazing out the windows at the ocean view. "She gone," he finally replied, his voice bitter.  
  
"She left you?", Kirsten asked surprised.  
  
Caleb snorted. "I told her to go. What do I want with a slut who sleeps with a juvenile delinquent."  
  
Kirsten moved around until she faced her father. She studied his face for a moment. "That's what this is really about. Your ego is bruised. Because she told you she slept with Ryan."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Caleb blustered. "The boy needs to learn to respect what belongs to others. That kid is out of control. If you are not going to teach him respect then I will!"  
  
"How? By beating the crap out of him? What did you teach him tonight? That fists are a way to solve a problem? I gotta tell you Dad, Ryan already knows how to fight his way out of a situation. He needs to learn how to use something other than his fists to resolve conflict. Thanks for your help, Dad," she said scornfully.  
  
Kirsten continued, "Did you ever consider that maybe Gabrielle did not sleep with Ryan? That she was just trying to bait you, to make you mad so you would tell her to leave. Because maybe, being twenty-four, she was a little bored hanging with a sixty-two-year-old man."  
  
"Don't you talk to me that way, young lady. I won't stand for it," Caleb cautioned his daughter.  
  
"And I won't stand for you coming into my house and beating on my son all for the sake of your wounded pride!"  
  
"Don't be a fool, Kirsten," Caleb spat. "I'm not standing here listening to this crap any longer," he concluded, turning on his heel and heading towards the door.  
  
"What's the matter, Dad," she addressed his retreating back. "Am I hitting a little to close to home? Maybe you should check your facts with Gabrielle again. You might be the one playing the role of the fool, not me."  
  
Caleb stormed from the room. Kirsten heard the front door slam, followed by the squeal of tires on the driveway as her father sped away. When all was quiet again, she sunk into the chair behind the desk and placed her head in her hands. Her gut told her this was only round one.  
  
Part 3  
  
Sandy drove Ryan to the clinic. Twenty stitches later, Ryan was released with a sling, a prescription for pain medication and a warning to keep the arm in the sling, immobile, for seven days to give the wound a chance to heal. As for the bruise and cut on his left cheek where Caleb's first shot had landed, nothing other than time was prescribed as the remedy. The doctor had also given him something for the pain but warned it might make the boy dopey and confused. The doctor was right.  
  
Ryan felt totally washed out. He desperately wanted to be home in his bed. His mind was in a very bad place. Like a hamster in a wheel, his thoughts kept circling round and round, reminding him of what a screw-up he was; accusing him of ruining everyones' lives; pointing out how he didn't belong; telling him he was trash. Unable to break the cycle, Ryan wallowed in a sea of self-pity and self-loathing.  
  
As they drove down the coast road towards home, a small portion of Ryan's mind pondered how long it would be before Sandy asked the burning question. Did he have sex with Gabrielle? Sandy's gaze flickered from the road to Ryan and back, rapidly and repetitively. The teen kind of hoped Sandy would not ask but he honestly didn't think it would play out that way. The Cohen's liked to get things out in the open, quickly.  
  
Sandy cleared his throat, following it up with another quick glance at Ryan. 'Here it comes,' Ryan thought.  
  
"So, Ryan. Those accusations that Kirsten's father made, about you and Gabrielle. Were they true?"  
  
Ryan looked sideways at Sandy then out the window. He tried to form a rational answer with his muddled mind. "No, well yes, but not totally," the boy replied addressing the passing scenery. He ran a weary hand through his blond locks. "I did kiss her, more than once," he said ducking his head sideways. "But I didn't have sex with her--- though," Ryan said, his voice dropping and becoming husky, "I would have---, if we hadn't been interrupted. She was--- intense and I was--- stupid."  
  
Sandy kept his face neutral. "Who interrupted you? Not Caleb?"  
  
A long stretch of silence descended upon the car. Sandy had almost given up on Ryan answering, when the boy finally heaved a sigh and said, with regret, "Marissa."  
  
"Ouch."  
  
Ryan shook his head ruefully. "Major. She saw us, ran off, left with Luke and then, well---," he trailed off, wincing at the memory.  
  
"Then---," Sandy prompted.  
  
Ryan looked plaintively at Sandy. "Let it drop--- please."  
  
Sandy took the hint and moved on. "So why does Caleb think you and Gabrielle had sex?"  
  
Ryan raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. She mentioned she was bored. That being with Caleb was a job, business arrangement. Maybe she wanted to move on. Figured this was a good way to escape. Make the old man jealous so he throws her out."  
  
The hamster wheel made another rotation in Ryan's brain. "I guess I got what I deserved," he added resignedly. The teenager stared moodily out the window again, with beaches on the right and humongous houses to the left. Money, everywhere you looked. Class. A lifestyle so alien to his own. He didn't fit in here and the harder he tried the worse it was. 'Face the facts,' Ryan admonished himself. 'You don't belong here. And you never will.'  
  
With his eyes firmly glued on the richly terraformed landscape, he quietly queried Sandy. "If you had to find--- my mom again--- could you?"  
  
"Sure," Sandy replied, cautiously. "But why?"  
  
Ryan swallowed hard, his voice laden with emotion. "What if--- What if I wanted to move out, move back with her?"  
  
Sandy did not offer a reply. Instead, he pulled the car off to the side of the road and shut off the engine. Sandy turned towards Ryan. The boy's eyes reflected his misery, his jaw line showed the tension he was feeling. "Ryan, what is this about?" he probed gently  
  
The car became too oppressive to Ryan. He flung open his door and wavering slightly, stepped onto the dirt shoulder of the roadway. The ocean breeze felt cool on his flushed cheeks. He leaned on the hood of the car, bracing himself with his good arm. Head hanging low, he stood there, breathing raggedly. Sandy slowly got out of the car, walking around the front of the car to stand near the troubled teen.  
  
Staring intently at the hood of the car, Ryan spoke, his voice barely pitched above a whisper. "I don't fit in here, with these people. And the harder I try to fit in, the more of an outsider I become. I wanna go home. Back to Chino. Where I belong."  
  
"You're in a bad place now. Give it time, Ryan."  
  
The boy looked up at Sandy, his eyes flooded with pain. "Time! I walk into anyplace around here and it's like there is a big sign that says 'scum' hanging around my neck." He slowly shook his head as in disbelief. "Time isn't going to change that. I'm always going to be the outsider."  
  
Ryan took a depth breath, narrowing his eyes. "This place, it's like a disease. There is no clear 'right'. No clear 'wrong'. Just mind numbing greyness. Back home, I use to know what to do, how to act, but now, this place, it's sucking the life out of me---"  
  
Feeling dizzy, Ryan shifted to lean his back against the car. Blinking to try to clear his vision, Ryan addressed his remarks to the brilliant blue ocean. "I have made nothing but bad choices since I got here. I took Seth to a party where he got drunk and beaten up. I ran away, burned down a house, caused a riff between Marissa and Luke, tackled a man during a debutante ball, introduced Seth to Donnie, trashed a $70,000 car, caused Luke to get shot and then fooled around with Kirsten's father's girlfriend. What the hell will be next?" he asked rubbing his good hand over his face in frustration.  
  
"You were not alone in those events," Sandy countered.  
  
Ryan swung round on Sandy, his voice rising and becoming edgy. "You don't get it. This place, it's--- making me like them," he gestured towards the opulent houses distastefully. "Shallow, superficial. Damn it, Sandy, I should have known better than to screw around with Gabrielle. What is it about this place that makes me so damn stupid!"  
  
Sandy answered with brutal honesty. "It's not this place Ryan, that is making you act stupid. It's the fact that you are infatuated with Marissa Cooper. This hot and cold game you two are playing, it's dangerous. It's affecting your judgment and one or both of you are going to get burned, big time."  
  
Ryan flinched uncomfortably as Sandy's remarks it home.  
  
Sandy went on. "At the party, you decided Marissa had chosen Luke over you didn't you? So when Gabrielle came along you figure, what the hell, if I can't have Marissa, Gabrielle will do. Ryan, buddy, that was a risky and frankly, stupid game to play. Did you even think about what would happen if Caleb had caught you?"  
  
"I told Gabby it wasn't a good idea but---", Ryan started to counter but Sandy gave him a hard look. "Ok," Ryan admitted, "I could've stopped it if I had really wanted too." Ryan dropped his head to his chest in distress. "God, I think I drove Marissa to have sex with Luke. How can I ever look her in the eye again? I gotta get out of this place."  
  
"Ryan, look at me." Ryan slowly raised his head to meet Sandy's eyes. "Marissa's a big girl and it was her decision, not yours." Ryan started to speak but Sandy held up a hand to stop him. "You might have been a catalyst, but in the end, it was Marissa's choice."  
  
Moisture formed in Ryan's eyes and he swallowed painfully. The thought of Marissa and Luke together like that, it was more than he could bear.  
  
A wave of physical pain, driven by his emotional state washed across Ryan causing him to stumble against the car. Sandy reached out a hand to steady him. "Enough. Back in the car. We're going home before you collapse." Sandy helped Ryan back into the car before getting in himself and restarting the engine. "We can talk more about this later, tomorrow, after you've had a chance to rest and clear your head."  
  
Ryan didn't reply. Closing his eyes, he laid his head back against the headrest and let fatigue wash over him. Mentally aiming a gun at the hamster, he pulled the trigger, killing the rodent. But the wheel kept spinning and the pain, it did not go away. 


	2. Chapter 5 to end

Part 4 "And he wants to go back, to live with his mother," Sandy concluded. "Look what your father has done now," Sandy accused his wife.  
  
"Whoa there," Kirsten said, turning around from her dressing table to face Sandy who was sitting on their bed. "This is not all Dad's fault."  
  
"You always defend him Kirsten. That man walks in this house with the aim to cause trouble. Usually it is between you and me but this time he found a new target--- Ryan," Sandy volleyed back.  
  
"I see. So Dad deliberately set up Ryan to have sex with Gabrielle."  
  
"Let's get one thing straight. I believe Ryan and he says it didn't--- that far. And yes, I do believe your Dad caused what happened to, well, happen. He comes waltzing in here with a sexy, twenty-four year old model. Twenty-four, for God's sake. Is it any wonder that Gabrielle finds Ryan more attractive than your dad? You know, it could have just as easily been Seth and Gabrielle. Wouldn't have that been great? Hanging out with a twenty-four year old ex-model, your Dad is asking for trouble."  
  
Sandy got up and started pacing the room. "It's disgusting, the way Caleb treats people, like commodities to be bought, traded and sold. Hell, Kirsten. He even treats you that way.  
  
Kirsten turned her back on her husband. "Sandy, that's not fair. We've talked about this before and I won't have you talking about my Dad in that manner."  
  
"It's the truth. Honey, he came into our house, beat up our son and threw him through a glass door."  
  
"That was an accident."  
  
"Maybe, but the fight was not. It was calculated and uncalled for."  
  
"Sandy, I've talked to Dad about it. Let it go."  
  
"And what about Ryan? What shall we say to him. 'Hey, ignore it. That's just Caleb'?"  
  
"Ryan's not totally innocent here either."  
  
"He's sixteen. He's torn up inside 'cause Marissa can't make up her mind between Luke and him. So yeah, when Gabrielle came on to him he responded, inappropriately, but---," Sandy spread his hands wide shaking his head. "Kirsten, he wants to go back and live with his mother. Things are not alright here."  
  
"He's hurt, he's upset, he's not thinking clearly. We'll deal with this tomorrow, after things settle down a bit."  
  
Sandy sighed. This was going nowhere. Kirsten had a blind spot when it came to her dad. Well, it was not really a blind spot. His wife knew what her father was really like, but she chose to make exceptions for a lot of his behaviors, more exceptions than Sandy felt were justified. As for Ryan, well Kirsten was right. They'd face that obstacle tomorrow.  
  
Part 5 It was a bad night. Finding a comfortable position to sleep in was impossible. He couldn't lie on his left side because of his arm or his right side because of the bruised face. He had never been able to sleep on his back and as for lying on his stomach that hurt both his arm and his face. It was a no-win situation. Finally he grabbed the blanket off the bed and propped himself in a chair. It wasn't great but at least he was able to sleep for small amounts of time. When the sun finally rose, he felt more tired then when he went to bed. He levered himself out of the chair, splashed some water on his face in the bathroom and wandered across the patio to the main house  
  
Seth was in the room when he dragged himself into the kitchen.  
  
"You look--- well rested," Seth said in jest. Ryan grunted in reply heading for the cereal cabinet. With his head still pounding, Captain Crunch seemed too noisy a choice. In fact, cereal was not appealing to him this morning. Wandering over to the stainless steel fridge, he opened the right-hand door and stared. Eggs. They were soft and quiet but required preparation, which would be difficult with only one usable hand. After mentally examining and rejecting a number of items he finally settled on yogurt. Easy to eat. Quiet. Snagging a container with his good hand, he swung the fridge door shut with his foot. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, he perched on top of one of the bar stools to eat. Opening the container with one hand was not a successful venture so he took his injured arm out of the sling and used it to hold the container while he peeled the top off with his right hand.  
  
"I would have opened it if you'd asked," Seth stated flatly. "No charge."  
  
Ryan shrugged again.  
  
"My you're awfully chatty this morning," Seth remarked.  
  
Ryan glanced up at Seth, raised and lowered his eyebrows in his classic maneuver and then went back to eating his yogurt.  
  
"So Ryan, was there any truth to what my Grandfather said yesterday? You didn't," Seth inserted a hand signal, "---Gabrielle did you?"  
  
"No," Ryan answered, short and curt.  
  
"Any idea why Gabby would have claimed you did?"  
  
Ryan rolled his right shoulder. "Maybe she was pissed 'cause nothing did happen. I kind of gave her the brush off after Marissa--- saw us."  
  
"Details, dude. What happened?"  
  
"Don't want to talk about it."  
  
"Not going to work, Ry. Spill it."  
  
Ryan ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to talk about it," he repeated but without conviction. He really did want to talk about it, needed to get it off his soul.  
  
Seth simply waited him out. Finally, Ryan pushed the half-eaten yogurt away and staring at the granite counter top, spoke. "Gabrielle was mad- dogging me at the party, like she was playing some perverted game. Coming up to me, doing--- things, saying to find her later. Then Marissa showed up at the party with Luke and they were all over each other. Made me, I dunno---"  
  
"Jealous?"  
  
Ryan winced, the truth hitting home. "Anyway, I was out in the pool house when Gabby came in and---"  
  
"Ravished you?" Seth cut in jokingly, not realizing how close to the truth he actually was.  
  
"Even if she started it, I certainly was willing participant. We were on the bed, hot and heavy, when Marissa walked in."  
  
"Dude, not a good scene."  
  
Ryan shook his head remorsefully, his face mirroring the regret he was feeling. "She, Marissa, ran out of there. I tried to find her, couldn't, she'd left with Luke," he finished in disgust.  
  
"You need to call Marissa and explain."  
  
Ryan rubbed a weary hand across his eyes, flinching as he touched his bruised flesh. "It's too late. I did talk to her or rather she talked to me. I waited up, watching for her to come home. She came home, with Luke. I wanted to talk, to explain but she stopped me. She said 'You're too late' walked in the house and shut the door." Ryan finally voiced his fear out loud. 'I think she and Luke, they---", he couldn't bring himself to say it but Seth was smart enough to be able to fill in the blank himself.  
  
"Wow," was all Seth could come up with at first. "But hey, so what. It is not like they got married or anything. So they had sex. Big deal. Doesn't mean you are out of the running."  
  
Ryan rounded angrily on Seth. "Don't you get it? I drove her to do it. With him. All because of--- because I was stupid. I hate this place!" Shaking his head, he stormed out of the room leaving Seth to stare after him in concern.  
  
Part 6 Over the next two days, Ryan avoided interacting with the Cohen's as much as possible. Attempts to talk to him were met with stonewalling and silence. By tacit agreement, Kirsten and Sandy gave the agitated teen some breathing space.  
  
Seth, on the other hand, kept dogging Ryan. He decided to make yet another attempt to talk to Ryan, who had been brushing him off like a pesky mosquito for the past two days. On his way to the pool house, Seth spotted Ryan walking down the driveway, bike in his good hand. Hurrying, he caught up with the blond boy before he hit the street.  
  
"Where ya going?" Seth drawled.  
  
Ryan glanced over at Seth, but didn't answer and didn't stop walking.  
  
"Perchance our you on your way out?"  
  
'Work," came Ryan's one word response.  
  
"Ok, and what about your arm? You gonna be the one-armed busboy today?"  
  
Ryan looked at the aforementioned body part and shrugged. "The shirt covers the bandage. I'll remove the sling when I get to work. I can use the arm. It'll work."  
  
"While you do have a plan, albeit flawed, I feel compelled to point out that you were specifically told not to use the arm for a week, correct? If my reckoning of days is accurate, while it feels like a week has passed around here, in actuality it has only been, hmmm, two days. Seems to me you are five days short of using that arm. Unless of course you want the stitches to rip out and start bleeding all over your customer's food though I gotta tell you Ryan, I don't think it will increase your tip intake."  
  
Ryan halted and faced Seth. "I don't want to lose this job. I'll make this work. I'll do the lifting with the other arm."  
  
Seth shook his head unhappily. "I don't think Mom and Dad are going to be happy---"  
  
Ryan cut him off. "You won't tell them and they won't find out."  
  
"Pardon me, but don't you think they'll notice you're missing around the house?"  
  
"I don't want to lose this job," Ryan repeated. "You will tell them that the restaurant put me on light duty, like the cash register or something."  
  
"That's a good idea. Instead of me lying to the parental units, why don't you, in real life, ask the Crab Shack to put you on light duty or simply ask for time off? Surely they would understand."  
  
Ryan snorted and started walking again, pushing the bike along. "I'm sixteen. How many jobs do you think there are out there for sixteen-year olds? I can't be making demands."  
  
"Well at least let me see if I can borrow the car and drive you there, save you riding the bike, crashing and breaking the other arm."  
  
"Fine," he replied. Ryan really wasn't looking forward to riding there anyway.  
  
"Settled. And then I'll pick you up tonight. You can tell me all about your day dear," he added coquettishly. "Be right back."  
  
Part 7 Seth glanced in the corner of his computer screen and noted it was 5:15 pm. Nearly time to pick up Ryan from work. He closed off what he was doing on the screen, grabbed a jacket and he headed downstairs to get the keys to the car.  
  
As he had predicted, his Mom had thought it was too soon for Ryan to get back to work, but like a good brother, he lied and explained Ryan was on 'light duty' and his mom had relented. In fact she had even been proud of him for offering to drive Ryan to and from work. Imagine that.  
  
Making his way down the back stairs into the kitchen, Seth plucked the keys off the peg and turned to leave. He was drawn up short when his Grandfather suddenly appeared in the doorway. Without formalities, Caleb asked, "Where's Ryan?"  
  
His grandfather had complimented him on having a quick wit in the past. Seth definitely had something cross his mind to say, but he wasn't sure his grandpa would find it all that witty at the moment so he kept it to himself and simply said "At work."  
  
"And where are you going?"  
  
"To get him."  
  
"You don't have to. I will go get him."  
  
"Ah Grandpa, I don't think---"  
  
Caleb cut the boy off. "Where does he work?", he demanded.  
  
Seth hesitated. "Well?," his Grandfather pressed.  
  
"The Crab Shack. Down at the pier. But I really don't think it's a good--- " but Caleb had already left leaving Seth talking to the air.  
  
"Who was that?" asked his mom, coming around the corner.  
  
"Grandpa."  
  
"Oh. And he left already?"  
  
"Yes," Seth said rather dazed at the sudden turn of events. Facing his mom he added, "He went to go pick up Ryan from work."  
  
Kirsten mouth dropped open, "He what? Why?"  
  
Gesturing helplessly, Seth said "Target practice?"  
  
Kirsten gave her son a disapproving look while she wondered what to do. Follow after them? Surely her father wouldn't pick another fight, well at least not a physical one, with the boy, would he? What could the man want with Ryan? Not really sure what was the right thing to do, Kirsten opted to wait and see.  
  
Part 8 Ryan's shift had been pure torture. He had ditched the sling in the car before entering the restaurant, so his boss had no idea he was impaired. He'd explained his battered face by claiming a biking accident, which also covered why Seth had driven him to work should inquiring minds want to know.  
  
Using all kinds of tricks and maneuvers, Ryan had managed to spare his hurt arm, to some degree. He 'd only dropped two items so far, which, overall he felt, wasn't too bad.  
  
About three-fourths of the way through his shift, his injured arm had began to throb and he went into the men's room to swallow a couple of aspirin. Rolling up his sleeve while in the privacy of a stall, he noted a few small bloodstains on the bandage. 'Not a great sign', Ryan mused but nothing he could do about it. He'd make sure he rested the arm tonight. Rolling his sleeve back down he'd washed up and went back to work.  
  
The last thirty minutes of his shift were sheer hell. His right arm, which had done the brunt of the work all day, was aching as much as his left arm. To add to his misery, he had a headache; stress related no doubt. Ryan was so focused on his personal misery that he failed to notice Caleb walking through the Crab Shack's door.  
  
Caleb decided to take a table in the far corner and watch the boy for a few minutes before making his presence known. Ordering and receiving a glass of Merlot from the waiter, Caleb settled back to observe. 'To his credit,' Caleb thought, the boy was hustling at his job, keeping the tables clean, serving the customers and generally keeping things flowing smoothly. He did note the boy had an awkward manner of using mainly his right hand for things while holding his left arm somewhat oddly, near his body. Picking up his glass, Caleb moved back outside to a table where he could observe the only visible exit from the restaurant. He'd wait here for Ryan.  
  
As he finished sipping his wine, he mused over again, as to why he was here. Earlier, Caleb had received a phone call from Gabrielle, who had heard God knows where, that he had beaten up Ryan. She had called him an old fool and told him that nothing had really happened between her and Ryan, that she had made up the story to hurt Caleb, and that they were through. 'As if', Caleb snorted, "I would have had anything more to do with her anyway.'  
  
Somehow though, the whole incident had made him feel uncomfortable about what he had done to Ryan. He had tried to rationalize it by saying the kid had burned down his house, but Caleb knew he was lying to himself. He hated to admit it, and he wouldn't to anyone but himself, but Kirsten had been right. He had been a fool, with injured pride and he had taken it out on Ryan, unfairly. Somehow that self-revelation had compelled him to seek out Ryan though he still wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he was going to apologize to the boy. Maybe, he told himself, it was curiosity. He wanted to determine what Kirsten, Sandy and his grandson saw in this kid. Why they let this delinquent youth live in their house.  
  
At 6:00 p.m. on the dot, Ryan removed his apron and clocked out. He was beat. He hoped Seth was outside since he had not seen him come in the restaurant. The last thing Ryan wanted to do was wait around. Walking out into the waning sunshine, Ryan peered around for Seth.  
  
"Looking for someone?" a voice asked, familiar but not quite registering.  
  
Ryan turned to see who was addressing him. His stomach did a flip-flop when he realized it was Caleb. The man stood up and tossed the money to cover his bill on the table. "Come on, the car's this way."  
  
Ryan stood rooted like a tree not comprehending what was going on. He glanced around again, hoping Seth would magically appear.  
  
"If you're looking for Seth, he's not coming. I'm taking you home." Caleb took a step towards Ryan and he noted the boy actually backed away from him. "Come on," he said again, impatiently. "I'm not going to beat you."  
  
Ryan realized he had unconsciously moved away from Caleb. Squaring his shoulders, he stood up a little straighter and his face took on a defiant look. "I'll walk," he declared.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous. You'll ride, with me, now." Caleb turned on his heel and walked off towards where the car was parked.  
  
Ryan hesitated, not wanting to go, but somehow feeling compelled to do so. Shrugging and thinking what the hell, he trailed along behind the man.  
  
When they got to the green Jag, Caleb motioned for the boy to get in. Ryan opened the door and slid into the luxurious sports sedan. With a rotation of the key, the engine purred to life. Caleb was a smooth and confident driver, easily maneuvering the vehicle through the early evening traffic.  
  
Ryan, who was starting to learn his way around the OC, noted that they were not heading towards the house. "This isn't the way to the Cohen's," he pointed out.  
  
"No, it is not," Caleb replied.  
  
Silence draped the car. Ryan started to sweat as he grew more unnerved by being in a car with a man who, two days ago, beat the crap out of him, on a way to an undisclosed location. Ten minutes later the car smoothly slid into a parking place in front of a three-story office building.  
  
"Come." Getting out of the car, Caleb started towards the door of the complex. Ryan exited the Jag, shut the door behind him but not did move onto the sidewalk. When Caleb realized the boy was not following him, he stopped turning around.  
  
"What are you waiting for?" asked the older man impatiently.  
  
Standing his ground, Ryan demanded, "Where are we going?"  
  
Caleb strode back over to the boy, grabbed his left hand and rotated the teen's arm until the underside of the forearm was facing up. Ryan yelped and attempted to pull his arm free. Caleb did not release his grip and ordered, "Look."  
  
Compelled, Ryan looked where he was told. He saw that the blood that had been on the bandage had soaked through to his shirtsleeve. Ryan grew hot and his skin flushed. Caleb released the boy's arm. "We're going to see my doctor."  
  
Without another word, Caleb headed away with the utmost confidence that the boy would follow. Ryan thought about defying the man and then thought better of it. What would he gain? So once again, he trailed in the forceful man's wake.  
  
Up to the third floor they traveled where Caleb entered a waiting room that was nicer than the last house Ryan had lived in. Caleb headed straight to the receptionist where he bullied his way into an immediate appointment. Ryan did not even have a chance to sit down before they were ushered into a examination room.  
  
While Caleb might have been able to intimidate his way to an instantaneous appointment, it still took a while for the doctor to come into the room. Caleb stood near the medical cabinets in the room, arms crossed on his chest. Ryan moved as far away from the man as the room allowed, standing awkwardly by the window.  
  
When the doctor finally arrived he greeted Caleb like an old friend. The physician noted Ryan in the room, but ignored him until Caleb chose to introduce the boy. After a few comments about sailing and golf, Caleb got down to business.  
  
"This is Ryan, Bob. He has been living with my daughter's family."  
  
Bob took a good look at the boy, doing a quick analysis, noting the contusions on the face and the careful way the boy was holding his left arm.  
  
"You need to take a look at his arm."  
  
The doctor walked towards the exam table, indicating that Ryan should hop up on it. Reluctantly, Ryan did as indicated. Doctor's did not thrill him. The doctor gently took the boy's arm and rolled up the sleeve noting the bloodstains on the shirt and later the bandage.  
  
"What happened?" he queried gesturing at the wrapping.  
  
Ryan glanced over at Caleb who stared, unblinking, straight back at him.  
  
"I, ah, cut it," Ryan said dropping his eyes to the floor.  
  
The physician took a pair of small sharp scissors from a nearby drawer. He carefully inserted the scissors' point under the edge of the bandage and started to snip away the stained material. "How long ago did this happen?"  
  
"Two days ago."  
  
With the bandage removed, the doctor examined the wound. "You have ripped open the stitches, son. What were you doing? Didn't the person who stitched this up give you instructions not to use the arm, to allow time for healing?"  
  
Ryan looked at the Doctor, then out the window without answering.  
  
"Well, I'm going to have to restitch some of the wound. I'll be back in a moment," he said, leaving the room.  
  
After the door closed, Caleb rounded on Ryan, "Where you instructed not to use that the arm?"  
  
Ryan found himself answering the question. Caleb was a compelling man.  
  
"Yeh," he reluctantly answered, looking down at the oozing wound.  
  
"Then what were you doing at that restaurant?"  
  
Ryan had it with this man and his patronizing attitude toward him. "Working, alright, I was working. I didn't want to lose the job. I need the money." Ryan stared contemptuously at Caleb. "I know you think I'm freeloading off your daughter, but believe me that's not what I want. I hate owing them or anyone. I'm trying to pay my own way, got it? And that means working."  
  
Ryan bounded off the table and paced to the window, running his good hand through his hair. "I know you think I'm scum, that you don't want me around your family. I get it."  
  
Ryan turned to face Caleb. "You think that I hooked up with Gabrielle to spite you or something. That couldn't be further from the truth. She was all over me. I should have put a stop to it right up front. But I didn't and for that I owe you an apology. But I won't apologize for living with your daughter and her family. That's their decision, not yours."  
  
Ryan looked away again, his voice taking on a haunting quality. "Where I come from, you don't get many chances like this, to have a better life. I intend to keep my nose clean and take advantage of this chance to escape. If that doesn't sit well with you then so be it. But I won't let you or anyone screw this up for me. And if that means I have to sit there, being insulted by you every time you come to the house, or if that means allowing you to beat me to a pulp, then so be it. It won't be the first time I've been beaten. At least this time I have something to gain. I won't lose this chance," he repeated vehemently.  
  
The door opened readmitting the doctor and cutting off any response Caleb might had made. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife and it did not escape the doctor's notice. But the physician knew Caleb all to well and whatever was going on between him and the boy, the doctor did not want to get in the middle of it. So he ignored the tension and focused on healing the boy.  
  
Pulling the rolling stool to the side of the exam table, he indicated that Ryan should sit on the seat and place his arm on the table. After adjusting the lamp to shine on the area to be stitched, the doctor readied the rest of his tools. Forcing the air out of the syringe, he injected it into Ryan's arm near the wound. "This will numb the area," he explained.  
  
Ryan watched the physician thread the needle, but looked away when he started sewing the skin back together. It didn't hurt, exactly, but it still made his stomach queasy if he thought about the sharp needle jabbing back and forth through his skin.  
  
It didn't take long for the wound to be stitched. When he was finished, the doctor applied an antibiotic cream to the affected area and rebandaged the arm. Moving across the room to a cabinet, the physician located a sling. He brought it back over to Ryan, slipped it around his neck, placed the freshly bandaged arm in it and then adjusted it to his satisfaction.  
  
Stepping back to survey his work and finding it acceptable he issued parting instructions. "Now Ryan. I want you to keep the arm immobile for at least the next five days, seven would be better. After that, light lifting only for the next two weeks. Keep the area clean and apply this ointment twice a day with fresh bandages. It will be sore so I suggest taking extra-strength acetaminophen as needed. If you need stronger, call my office and I'll prescribe something."  
  
Ryan accepted the tube, shoved it in his pocket and nodded to indicate he heard the instructions.  
  
Turning his attention back to Caleb, he said, "He's ready to go. Are you back in town for a while Caleb? Maybe we could get up a foursome for golf."  
  
Bob opened the examination room door and indicated Caleb should precede him. The two men walked down the hall discussing golf with Ryan trailing behind. They parted company at the reception desk, with no mention of payment. Caleb simply shook hands with his friend and he and Ryan left. It was a whole other world up here. In his neighborhood they wouldn't even let you in the door until you proved you could pay.  
  
The trip back to the car was similar to the trip into the building. Caleb was in the lead moving swiftly and confidently through the maze of hallways and Ryan was trailing in the rear.  
  
When they got back to the car, Ryan slid back into the supple leather passenger seat, buckled up and closed his eyes. What's next, he wondered? He knew what he wanted to do. Go home and crash, but if he had learned anything about Caleb in their short association, it was that it really didn't matter what anyone wanted to do when Caleb was around, because you were going to do what he wanted to do. Caleb started the car and pulled back into the traffic with ease. They rode in silence, the California scenery sliding by unnoticed. Ryan had his eyes shut and Caleb's concentration was on the road. Ryan started to drift off when suddenly Caleb's strident voice roused him back to a groggy consciousness.  
  
"Kirsten tells me you're interested in architecture," Caleb stated.  
  
Ryan shrugged, eyeing Caleb out of the corner of his eye. 'Kirsten had told her father that?' he mused. 'Wonder why?  
  
Caleb changed tacks. "I talked to Gabrielle again, since I saw you last."  
  
'---when you beat the shit out of me,' Ryan added silently.  
  
"She said nothing happened between the two of you."  
  
'Which again, is exactly what I told you as you were playing macho man on my face,' Ryan thought to himself..  
  
"Perhaps I was a little hasty in my judgment, but I still say you are trouble and my daughter is going to be sorry she allowed that husband of hers to talk her into keeping you."  
  
Ryan stared at Caleb's ear, then looked away in haste out the window to cover his confusion. Had Caleb just apologized to him, even if offhandedly?  
  
Silence descended again and remained in place for the rest of the trip. Not soon enough for Ryan, they arrived back at the Cohen's. Not a word was spoken as they exited the vehicle and entered the house. Kirsten, who had heard the car drive up, met them at the front door.  
  
"Is everything Ok?" she asked neutrally.  
  
"Fine," he father returned briskly. "Do you have a glass of Merlot for a thirsty old man?"  
  
"Sure, Dad," she answered. "Are you OK, Ryan?"  
  
"I didn't lay a hand on him," her father said. Kirsten wasn't sure if that was a joke or not.  
  
"I'm fine," Ryan mumbled. "Kind of tired. I'm gonna go lay down." Head down to avoid eye contact, Ryan beat a hasty retreat.  
  
"That Merlot?", prompted Caleb, indicating that Kirsten should precede him into the kitchen.  
  
"Sure, right away," Kirsten said, moving past him to go get two wine glasses.  
  
The two adults sat on the patio, sipping wine and chatting. They discussed the business, Jimmy Cooper and a variety of other topics, but not one word on why Caleb had driven Ryan home from work. Kirsten had tried to approach the subject but Caleb had simply stonewalled her at every pass. Kirsten had learned over the years if her Dad did not want to discuss something, it did not get discussed.  
  
Sandy came home from work to find his wife and his father-in-law still sitting on the patio.  
  
"Look at the time," Caleb said suddenly, looking at his watch and rising from his chair.  
  
"Oh, don't leave on my account," Sandy countered glibly.  
  
"We'll talk more tomorrow, Kiki," Caleb said. Nodding curtly at Sandy, he left.  
  
"What was he doing here?", questioned Sandy.  
  
"He's my father. Why shouldn't he come to visit?"  
  
Sandy slid into the now vacant chair. "How about because last time he was here he beat up Ryan."  
  
"Well, today he drove Ryan home from work."  
  
"What?" Sandy replied, caught totally by surprise. "Why did Caleb drive him home?"  
  
"Honestly Sandy, I have no idea."  
  
"And what was Ryan doing at work anyway? He's supposed to be resting that arm."  
  
"Seth said they put him on light duty."  
  
"He really shouldn't be working at all. Where is he now?"  
  
"In the pool house, sleeping I think. Said he was tired when he came home with Dad."  
  
"I still don't get that," Sandy remarked, scratching his chin.  
  
"Dad didn't enlighten me."  
  
"I'll bet. Well maybe Ryan will shed some light on the situation."  
  
Kirsten wondered about that. If there was one trait her dad and Ryan shared, it was the ability to be closed-mouth. They might learn no more from Ryan than they had from her father.  
  
Part 9  
  
Kirsten saw the lights come on in the pool house so she knew Ryan must have woken up. She figured the boy would be hungry, having missed dinner, so she decided to bring him something to eat. She put together a PB&J sandwich, poured a glass of milk and carried the two items with her across the patio to the pool house. She rapped lightly on the door before entering.  
  
"Ryan?" she said. The boy came out of the bathroom, toweling his damp hair.  
  
"I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you a sandwich."  
  
"Thanks," Ryan replied.  
  
They both stood awkwardly for a moment before Kirsten moved to place the plate and glass on the coffee table by the bed.  
  
"So, you and Dad, ah, got along OK this afternoon?"  
  
Ryan rubbed the towel through his hair again, not because it was wet but because it delayed him from having to answer Kirsten's question, at least for a few minutes. The boy moved over to the edge of the bed and sat down. Kirsten took one of the chairs opposite.  
  
"Your dad," Ryan said, hesitantly. "I think he apologized to me, kind of." Ryan grimaced. "I'm not 100% sure, but I think he did, in an off-handed sort of way."  
  
"Hmmm. Apologizing is not Dad's strong suit."  
  
"Yeah," Ryan laughed mirthlessly. "I sort of got that impression."  
  
Ryan studied his bandaged arm with great interest. It felt awkward to be discussing this with Kirsten. "Your dad. I guess Gabrielle finally told him the truth. That we didn't, ah, sleep together. So I think your Dad was sort of saying he was sorry, for this," Ryan finished moving his left arm and glancing up at Kirsten.  
  
"He's not an easy man to understand, Ryan. But he's my dad."  
  
Ryan gave Kirsten a little smile. "I get it. Really. Like my mom. I mean she has screwed up my life more times than I can count, but she's still my mom. And my dad, well we won't go there."  
  
Kirsten smiled gently in return. "Well, I'll leave you to eat dinner in peace," she said rising from the chair.  
  
"Thanks--- for the sandwich and all."  
  
Kirsten returned to the main house while Ryan settled in to eat.  
  
Part 10 Sandy had his head stuck in the fridge rummaging for a snack when the patio door opened and closed. Ryan walked in, empty glass balanced on top of a plate holding a sandwich with one bite taken out of it. Carefully, the boy laid his burden on the granite island top.  
  
Sandy shut the fridge door and leaned on the counter. "Dinner?" he questioned gesturing at the plate.  
  
Ryan scratched his head. "Your wife. She, ah, made me a sandwich and a glass of milk. The milk was good," he answered with a rueful grin.  
  
Sandy examined the sandwich in question. It was 99% peanut butter, 1 % jelly on what looked like rye bread. He shuddered. "How about I rustle you up a plate of leftovers from dinner."  
  
"That would be great. My arm, it's kind of sore," Ryan, indicated as he slid into one of the counter stools.  
  
"Speaking of your arm," Sandy said opening the fridge and pulling out some containers. "What were you doing at work today anyway? Not cool Ryan. You could have ripped the stitches out."  
  
"I did," Ryan said sheepishly.  
  
Sandy closed the door and laid the items on the counter. 'Care to explain?"  
  
Ryan winced. "I went to work. I used the arm a little too much I guess. Caleb came to pick me up after work. He noticed my arm was bleeding, took me to his doctor who restitched it and then brought me home. Oh yeah. He apologized, I think, for accusing me of sleeping with Gabrielle."  
  
"Well," Sandy said, raising his thick eyebrows. "You have had a busy day."  
  
Ryan nodded in tacit concurrence.  
  
"But seriously, Ryan. Going to work dude, not smart."  
  
Ryan ducked his head again. "Yeh, I know. But I didn't want to take a chance on losing my job. I can't have you and Kirsten paying for everything. I need to--- contribute."  
  
"And if that's how you feel I have no problem with that, but within reason Ryan. And working with that arm, that is not within reason. While we're talking about this, if this job interferes with your school work, you'll have to quit."  
  
Sandy moved about the kitchen fixing the plate of food for Ryan then placing it in the microwave to warm up. While he was at it, he made a plate for himself too. When they were heated, he brought the plates over to the counter, placing one in front of Ryan.  
  
"Now, would you like me to cut your meat for you?" Sandy joshed.  
  
"No, I think I can handle---that."  
  
Sandy took the other plate over to the vacant stool and sat down.  
  
They ate in companionable silence. When Sandy had finished, he pushed his plate back and dropped his napkin on the counter. "The other day you asked me to contact your mom. Well, I didn't do it yet. I will if you want me to---" Sandy said, leaving the statement hanging open.  
  
Ryan stopped eating and slowly put his fork down on the counter. He looked over at Sandy. "No," he replied hesitantly as if questioning whether Sandy would take that as an acceptable answer.  
  
"Ok, fine," Sandy, said cheerfully. "It's forgotten."  
  
The gratitude showed in Ryan's eyes when he said "Thanks."  
  
"So you got the old man to apologize, "Sandy said, rising to clear the dishes. "Damn that's good. I've been married to Kirsten for what, 19 years, and her father has never apologized to me, for anything."  
  
"Guess he must like me," Ryan countered grinning slyly. The two males shared a good laugh, both knowing Caleb might tolerate them, but would never admit to going as far as liking them.  
  
Sandy clapped Ryan on the shoulder, wishing him a good night before heading upstairs. Ryan sat at the counter for a few more minutes, thinking how lucky he was. Yeh, maybe he did not fit in the OC, but he found a place in the Cohen household, and that was good enough for him.  
  
The End 


End file.
